Laura Unearthed

Our farm baby loves one Saturday morning show about a chicken puppet in a costume shop.   Snuggling my girl, watching that show, a roar shook the windows one morning. No cause for alarm… we occasionally see a military plane fly over.   … … … rrrrRRRRROOOOOAAAAARRRrrrrr… … … … rrrrRRRRROOOOOAAAAARRRrrrrr… … … … … … rrrrRRRRROOOOOAAAAARRRrrrrr… … … … rrrrRRRRROOOOOAAAAARRRrrrrr… … … It takes a lot to elicit a reaction from me.   I may be the compassionate, bleeding-heart type personality; however, dramatic I am not.   After the fifth pass, I grew curious.   After the sixth or seventh, I batted away scary scenarios rolling through my mind.   After the tenth, I finally unwound the toddler and got up to look out the window. Here’s my view.   My immediate reaction: How cool!   We live and farm in a mix of hills and creek bottoms.   Unlike our friends to the south, we don’t often see a crop duster.   What a treat! Almos...

It’s not just clickbait.   The farmer really said to me, “a miracle happened today,” as he hopped in the passenger side of my vehicle to grab his supper.   Let me fill you in… my farmer can tend to exaggerate his stories a bit.   However, his demeanor was possibly the most chipper I’ve witnessed all spring… Spring 2015 blew in with rain, rain, rain… and more rain.   One dry week allowed for planting of corn and milo.   Then, you guessed it: more rain.   Soybean planting began on rare dry days.   We were grateful to get seeds planted, but spraying was another challenge.   One particular bottom field stayed too wet to spray all spring, so weed management became particularly trying.     Persistence paid off (insert sarcasm), and just after cleaning up the weeds, planting, and spraying… the creek opted to expand its borders:   Then, in a week, we received five to six more inches of rain, in addition to the wate...

Browsing Pinterest today, my irritation grew with every article titled “Must-dos Before Baby” or “Baby Gear Must-Haves.”   Outside of your doctors’ directions (by the way, please listen to your doctor) , there is nothing you must do to have a happy, healthy baby.  But I didn’t know that. I’m kind of ashamed of the thinking that devoured my normal senses during my first pregnancy.   More regretful than ashamed, I suppose, for all of the self-imposed stress and worry.   Reading baby product reviews was my new anxiety-inducing addiction.   It was ridiculous.     Our baby showed up a month early, which happened to be a day after this photo. Then, my daughter surprised us by debuting a month early, and I couldn’t complete my pre-babe project check-list.   What happened?   We had a beautiful, feisty baby doll anyway. This second pregnancy is cake compared to number one.   Mostly because number one keeps me way too distracted ...

My, oh my, the muck and the mire.   (Just finished reading Little Blue Truck to the tot before bed.   Who else has that one memorized?) Like much of the Midwest, our Spring has been wet.   In farm world, wet translates to: unhappy farmers who can’t get in the field.   The good news: creative meals delivered to the field haven’t been required lately.   However, blue skies lingered just long enough for the farmer to get in a soybean planting frame of mind today… which means: a field supper.   My farmer would be grateful for a plain ole hamburger or turkey sandwich, but the key to really making his day, is a small twist on a familiar go-to convenience meal. Tonight, I pulled out a new recipe: “ Grilled Chicken Cordon Bleu Wraps ” from the Taste and Tell blog.   Very loooosely chicken cordon bleu.   In fact, in my efforts to simplify the recipe, I looked up “cordon bleu” to make sure I didn’t compromise the essence of the “cor...

My teenage prayers easily embraced, “Lord, Your will be done.”   A blank canvas of life lay ahead of me with no commitments to jobs, husband, children, or mortgages.   Now, I still crave to draw near to the heart of God and His will… but sacrificing my time, security, comfort, and routine generates a greater grapple of the heart.   Our soldiers know better than anyone the likeness of Christ.   We may define Christianity as love.   That feels good, but we often fail to recognize the accompanying disclaimer: love in action requires sacrifice.   Hopefully, our soldiers influence you not to just reflect and appreciate this weekend, but inspire you to claim how God may be asking you to sacrifice. Occasionally, as youth leader, I write articles for our church newsletter, and this month, “coincidentally,” the idea of sacrifice in my newsletter article parallels my reflections this Memorial Day weekend. ..... Answering the call to sacrificial l...

I’ve been in an unpleasant mood for a few days... This topic tends to draw forth a bit of passion in me.   And the passion turns to anger... so I considered abandoning the issue altogether. But… someone wise once told me that if you want to find and fulfill your passion, start with what makes you angry.  (The ability to calm that anger and turn it into productivity is the key.) Last week, Time posted an excerpt from Sir Ken Robinson’s new book Creative Schools , titled “WhySchools Need to Bring Back Shop Class.”   I vaguely remember the mention of Sir Ken in my Master’s Degree classes, and the professor that urged us to follow him on Twitter… but I was busy teaching , unknowingly trying to accomplish exactly what Sir Ken was promoting: engaging the marginalized, stereotyped kids in our midst. “Viewing vocational programs as second-rate is one of the most corrosive problems in education.” – Sir Ken Robinson Don’t.I.know.it.   Vocational teachers are...